


his best american boy

by stevebuckiest



Series: the sub steve book club [12]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Angst and Feels, Arguing, Belts, Bucky Barnes Has Issues, Communication, Couch Cuddles, Dom Bucky Barnes, Frustration, Gloves, Happy Ending, M/M, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Protective Bucky Barnes, Secret Relationship, Spanking, Steve Rogers Feels, Sub Steve Rogers, Wartime Romance, also a couch, and ., control issues that is, dont ever make bucky worry like that again, steve rogers is an idiot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-04
Updated: 2021-01-04
Packaged: 2021-03-14 03:53:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28539159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stevebuckiest/pseuds/stevebuckiest
Summary: The night they’d first reunited, after Bucky’s rescue from the hellhole Steve got him out of, Bucky can remember Steve asking him- in the middle of some pretty intense reunion sex no less-“You’re not mad I came?”That had been a loaded question for an already loaded night, but Bucky’s always been pretty used to Steve’s antics knocking him off balance. Because Steve might always get up from a fight, but Bucky is the one that always comes back with an answer.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Series: the sub steve book club [12]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1891096
Comments: 4
Kudos: 77





	his best american boy

**Author's Note:**

> this is a part two to the fit’s still the same but it can be read on its own if you dont care about missing all the callbacks !
> 
> would like to quickly note timeline wise, bucky was in the war much longer than steve. he went through winter training before he shipped out, was on the italian front a while before steve got the serum in june of 1943, then was in the thick of it another four(?) months until steve rescued him from being captured with his unit that he’d been working with since training, before and while steve was busy himself performing with the USO. they both worked together after that. steve lasted until around march 5th, 1945 without bucky, only a month after he fell from the train. they both were in the war for years, but to bucky’s credit (because i HATE when he’s infantilized) and to put the moment i’m writing about into perspective, bucky was there a good bit longer and had more training than steve ever got, both in general and in respect to the team steve put together of his men. while steve is no doubt one of the howlies own in my eyes, in the beginning, he definitely stepped on some toes while trying to get used to really being in the field as a soldier and not a savior. this is about that, and the other frustration bucky would have been feeling in regards to losing so much control over his life while watching steve struggle with too much control and command of his own over things he doesn’t yet understand. yk. the usual tfa angst, but with a side of spanking. happy reading!

The night they’d first reunited, after Bucky’s rescue from the hellhole Steve got him out of, Bucky can remember Steve asking him- in the middle of some pretty intense reunion sex no less- “ _You’re not mad I came?”_

That had been a loaded question for an already loaded night, but Bucky’s always been pretty used to Steve’s antics knocking him off balance. Because Steve might always get up from a fight, but Bucky is the one that always comes back with an answer. 

It was asked not in reference to what was going on between his legs (because they both knew he wouldn’t without permission, not in a moment like they had been sharing at the time) but in reference to what had happened earlier that day. Azzano. Bucky waking up from days- what felt like _weeks_ of torture and hallucinations where Steve welcomed him back home, safe and smiling and oh so sweet- only to open up his eyes and find that at least part of those visions were true. But only part. The part Bucky had never even thought he’d have to truly worry about with how he’d left Steve back in Brooklyn.

Because Steve isn’t back home. He’s here with Bucky, in the goddamn war that tried to tear them apart in the first place (and ended up succeeding for a good few months). Pretty much the _last_ place Bucky had wanted him to end up, and he knows damn well he had told him as much before when they were home, right up to the night he left. Hell, they’d argued at the Expo over it, which is apparently exactly where Erskine had seen Steve first- talk about irony. 

Yet, there Steve was that day, looming up over Bucky on that god forsaken table, looking like an angel out of every painting Steve had shown Bucky from his textbooks with a saving that came just as sweet. 

There hadn’t been any sweeping up of Bucky in his arms or ravaging him on the table- Christ, Bucky was a prisoner of war, not a princess, and he’ll punch anyone who wants to treat him like a damsel because of what he’d endured- but Steve hadn’t done that. Hell, he’d been the one to look at _Bucky_ with stars in his eyes even when Bucky was leading the cheer meant to celebrate his heroics. 

That’s always how he looks at Bucky, though. Bucky’d been relieved as hell to see that hadn’t changed just because his frame and fame had seen a shift, and although he was scared out of his wits still from almost losing Steve in the hour long timeframe he’d had him back thus far because the people who’d _tortured_ him had tried to trap his boyfriend- he’d known then for sure that everything would be alright in the end. 

It was his addled brain’s first recognition of _That’s my boy. There he is._

Yeah, there he is. _Here_ Steve is. In this shithole two seconds from dying every time he takes a step. Just like Bucky. Bucky gets a little sick sometimes just thinking about it. And that’s _all_ he’s been able to think about ever since the post-coital fog had cleared from his brain and he looked down to see Steve, big and blonde and impossibly brawny, curled right up on Bucky’s chest next to where his tags were laying right beside him. Symbols of Bucky’s peace and pain, held quite literally close to heart. 

At the time Steve had blurted out the question (mouth moving faster than his mind, usual. Or his muscles now, for that matter) Bucky had been admittedly a little preoccupied with things (things being his fingers inside Steve’s ass while the blonde rubbed himself off on his lap), but he’d heeded the interlude enough to respond with something surprisingly more eloquent than expected. 

“ _I’m not glad you’re gonna experience this too_ ,” he remembers saying, fingers still working even while handing half his heart over with his words. “ _But how can I be mad about seeing you, Steve? Feels like half my soul is missing when you’re not by my side. If you’re here, I’m glad it’s with me._ ” 

Steve had been seemingly satisfied by the honest answer, but Bucky had only been satisfied enough to continue with what they were doing after adding on another statement as well, scolding and sharp even said just in jest.

“ _But we will be talking about what you and I classify as stupid later, because pal, I think we have some differences on that matter._ ” That’d been all there was to say on the subject before Bucky made good on his prior promise and fucked Steve exactly like he’d been begging for the entire night. 

It was a good night, to say the least, even after one hell of a day. 

But now, almost a week later, that answer- even with its addition- is no longer good enough. Not with all the shit Steve had pulled today in the field. Punching a tank? Running ahead of his team without a lick of signal to let them know? Ordering them around like he runs the operation and Bucky hasn’t been helping his men fall into their roles best they can during the _months_ Steve had been ordered to prance around on stage? It’s not that he resents Steve or is under the impression he was happy about it himself, it’s just- their circumstances have been different. Very different.

Bucky might have some personal bias with stake in the game considering how much of a loss of control he’s been feeling whatnot with the torture and transformation of his lovers’ body- but a single look from Dugan and a scoff from Morita was enough for him to know it’s not just that. It’s not just him. Steve’s out of control. Which is funny, considering Bucky’s feelings and how Steve’s seemingly had all his handed to him on a platter- but despite all of the annoyance, Bucky understands. 

He loves the guy, after all. That’s what he’s there for. 

Steve didn’t go through basic in the traditional sense. Erskine was always there watching over him. Peggy, god bless her ambition, was always there doing her best to keep the other assholes (rightfully) in line- but also, because she was only human, tending to let her favoritism and temper twist that around a fair amount of time. Steve had luckily been in that favor mostly (barring the incident with Lorraine and Peggy shooting at Steve after. As if it was _her_ who ought to be sore about Steve almost getting seduced- or fine, Steve _attempted_ at being seduced. Bucky knows he would never two-time him even if Peggy isn’t aware that Bucky is his full time anyways). Don’t get Bucky wrong, Steve earned his uniform, earned some of those non decorative stripes. 

But a super soldier serum doesn’t mean he gets to come in and step on everyone else’s toes, _especially_ those of his fella, or least of all _put his own goddamn life in danger_. 

Steve hasn’t had the same experience as Bucky or the guys on their team. He hasn’t ever had to really heed the chain of command when it comes to combat (although that might be a good thing with how it’d led him to their rescue). He hasn’t worked with a team before, especially not one trained to operate with each other like the Howlies. He’s not an outsider, not with how much they like and Bucky loves him, but he’s not on the place to be switching things up yet, not when he’s just getting the hang of being in the field to begin with. 

He’s had a week of experience. Even with as much of tactical genius as Phillips and Peggy want to market him with, Steve isn’t a miracle worker although he himself is a miracle. 

He needs time to learn, and Jesus Christ. Bucky’s damn well gonna be the one to teach him the first lesson after his behavior today. Fucking _punk_. Bucky, for once, means that less than fondly. Still _pretty_ fondly, but with plenty of frustration as well. 

Bucky might be just saying this because he’s older, because he’s always been protective of Steve, because the last few weeks have seen him crawling within an inch of his life only to come back dead tired and traumatized- but Steve is just a kid, like a lot of other people when they get here, only in his instance even more jarringly out of place. He was _twenty four_ when those scientists shot him full of the serum, and Bucky knows he’s only older himself by a year and some months, had only been twenty six at that time and undergone some pretty gruesome stuff himself, but Jesus. Twenty four. A goddamn _kid_.

A fresh faced, fiery kid who got handed a weapon and put on some weight with nothing else to guide him along with that besides a well meaning scientist and an agent with a schoolgirl crush that view him more as an experiment than an earnest soldier that doesn’t have a lick of sense about what he’s doing besides that he wants it to be _the right thing._ Bucky hates that he’s going to have to break it to him, hates the idea that Steve might have to learn this on his own even more- but over here, the right thing is relative. 

Contrary to what those war flicks might make people think, things aren’t always in black and white. 

It’s high time they have those words Bucky mentioned. Now is better than later, because boy, if Bucky stews in these feelings he’s got any longer- Steve’s gonna be lucky if they don’t hear him getting chewed out all the way back in Brooklyn where he belongs. Being a big brother and Winifred Barnes’ only son has made Bucky far from above dragging Steve away by the ear. Even if he _is_ Captain America according to everyone else’s eyes, he’s still the same little punk in Bucky’s. 

When Bucky goes out to search for him that night after his shower and check in with the camp’s med tent to make sure his wounds from the torture- fuck, he hates using that word. From _Azzano_ \- are healing right, he’s simmered enough in it to still be on the edge of pissed. Brooding, his mother would call it. He’s always been moody when he’s mad, and being marched to a camp in the middle of a war front hasn’t seemed to do much to dull that, especially with the way he’d first felt all his emotions get when he had got here to begin with 

His irritation must show up enough on his face, because not a single person attempts to talk to him during his entire trek across the way to Steve’s officer’s tent where he can see the lamp still glowing low inside. And not to brag, but he’s usually a pretty sociable guy. Approachable, at least, he likes to think. Right now he isn’t feeling like either of those things, so it’s probably a good thing no one runs into him- at least it’s a good thing in terms of most people. 

Because when Bucky raises Steve’s tent flap and steps inside expecting to see him only to be greeted by empty space and an unmade bedroll, he’s feeling less than good about it. Even with his already less than stellar current mentality. 

It only serves to sour his mood even more. Not even the _one_ thing he could expect is falling into place today and it makes him feel like he’s losing his mind, or at least his grip on things. He’s already lost most of that, it seems. That much is clear. He considers storming out and spending the night alone on his cot instead, but eventually decides against it in the end. That’d only make him feel even worse- and why wait alone when he’s got a perfectly good tent full of private space right here? Even if he doesn’t have his boyfriend here to enjoy it with him, he can still kip out for a while. Not like Steve will be bringing anyone else back in here. 

Steve might be a little off his mark lately, but he’d never stray that far, not when it comes to Bucky. And Bucky- well, he might be mad at him. He might be a little upset, insecure, cagey, all the things that come with sudden circumstances changing and feeling so lost like he has lately- but Bucky knows Steve. He always will, body, time, or place. They’ve already put two of those things to the test. Hopefully they won’t have to try the third. 

Sometimes the anger makes that hard to fully get a feel of, but Bucky knows it regardless. Even flopping down on Steve’s cot, boot kicked out to cross his ankles and then his arms behind his head as he sprawls back with a sigh easily heard even through the layers of Steve’s tent secluded in the far corner for privacy, Bucky still knows. It’s just that all the knowing is being _outweighed_ by the feeling right now. Because Bucky has been feeling a lot. 

Every soldier does, Bucky is aware. He’s not so different from all the others, even in terms of undergoing torture (although the experiments he’d been subjected to during it... he’s not sure what that means yet). Sometimes that makes him feel special, and sometimes it makes him feel sane in a way that is hard to come by for men where they are these days. 

Fear is so constant over here that Bucky’s become used to being baseline terrified by now without appearing too jumpy or on edge- which is a good thing, considering he’s wielding an active weapon most of the time now. It’s not enjoyable by any means, but it’s his new normal. A lot of things are, apparently. Including having Steve over here. 

It’s just... like he said that first night, he’s glad that if Steve is over here, at least it’s with him. At least he has the option of keeping him safe, but at the same time- Steve doesn’t need him to do that. Bucky might not even really be able to do that. Not anymore with Steve’s new body, new rank, new _life_. And Bucky hates himself for this and how selfish it makes him feel- but there’s some bitterness behind that sentiment. There might even be a lot. 

Coming over here was a big change, to put it in obvious terms. Back home he’d been pretty mellow. Not adverse to a good fight (how could he be as a boxer and Steve constantly needing his ass saved from fights he couldn’t finish?) but not exactly itching for one he didn’t choose to enter either. And this war, this fight- he didn’t choose it, not at all. Unlike Steve, he’d been content to do his part at home on the docks and keeping things over there moving, although his heart is behind the cause they’re getting over here behind at least even if he might not agree with all the means. 

He has a _heart_ \- he fights the enemy for more than just the fact they’re shooting at him and he has to shoot back. It’s just that he doesn’t tend to like what he can’t have a hand on to keep it calm, and that’s pretty much everything around him now that he got drafted and dragged to hell. _Damned_ to hell, even. 

Over here, he’s just a soldier. A gun. A body. Name, rank, and serial number, just like he’d whispered as a prayer back on that goddamn table in Hydra’s lab. Back home he’d been more than that- a son. A big brother. A boxer. A body used to protect, rather than attack, someone who took care of Steve rather than tripped over the trampling left in his reckless wake. All things he’d chosen or been more than happy to be. Over here, there’s none of that. He’s not sure there’s anything real at all.

The things he’d had to take care of back home were so well loved, so well worn, that without them Bucky finds himself at a bit of a loss, if he’s giving himself the room to be honest. Like it’s been ripped away, because really, it has been. His old life ripped away by that draft card that came in the mail, looking like just a piece of paper and not a prison sentence that meant he was going to have to leave everything- _everyone-_ behind. Maybe for good. His old self, hardened and hollowed out by weeks of training and time in the trenches spent killing until he’d been taken from that too and _tortured_ until his own body had taken to being treated like it wasn’t his own. 

Then, because all of that wasn’t enough in the eyes of the universe apparently for all of his suffering, he’d only gotten out of that situation because Steve- the one thing, one person Bucky had thought he’d still had control over helping keep safe, keep _away_ from this god awful situation- had shown up looking so far away from the familiarity that Bucky had been expecting (and honestly, craving) and Bucky’d been so suddenly angry at himself for failing to keep Steve home and then being angry about being goddamn rescued to _begin_ with, ungrateful bastard. There’d been anger at Steve too, though, and that hasn’t faded. It’s just harder to unpack.

Bucky might be glad as hell to see the love of his life, but that doesn’t mean he can’t be mad as hell at him for other things too. Especially when he’s being a reckless little punk, like today has only shown in a light that’s clearer than ever, even through Bucky’s jumbled feelings. 

Hence why Bucky is currently in Steve’s tent and on his bed, staring at the coarse material of the makeshift ceiling like it holds answers to all the internal turmoil he has going on inside. Not turmoil about _how_ he feels for Steve, never that. He’ll love him until the day they die and past it. He’ll never quit on him- things have changed, but what he feels is the same. Steve knows that. 

What Steve doesn’t know is that as soon as he gets in his tent, Bucky might be riled up enough by that point to give him the lesson learning lecture of the century and then some. God knows he fucking needs it (Bucky might need it too with how lost _he’s_ feeling). Steve has always needed to be knocked down a peg when he’s getting too headstrong, though. That hasn’t changed, same as his heart, and neither has Bucky’s determination to provide for both. That, at least, will always be something familiar. 

Bucky sighs and flexes his fingers to keep them from falling asleep where they’re still tucked behind his head, skritching at his own scalp while he thinks just like Steve usually does when Bucky takes initiative to lay on his lap and let himself be pampered. They don’t get a lot of chances to do that type of thing nowadays with luxury and privacy being so short in opportunity, but the gesture is still comforting enough to get Bucky sinking down lower into the semi-soft nest of Steve’s rumpled blankets (did he even learn how to fold sheets in basic?) and do his best to calmly muse ahead about what’s to come. 

Hopefully by the end of the night, he and Steve are among those things, but first things first is Bucky needs to get his intended message drilled into Steve’s skill before he goes drilling into his ass in the same way. Different style, but same concept, right? Right. 

Steve needs to slow down. Get out of his head so he can take a step back and look at what he’s doing, how he’s been acting and reaction to things ever since he got a bit cocky after his first mission gone right (first mission in _general_ ) and has been treating things like he now has something to prove. Something to live up to. 

He probably feels that way exactly, knowing Steve. He’s never been a people pleaser (although he loves pleasing Bucky immensely) but he’s always been proud, always been worried about living up to his life’s grand expectations. And now, as Captain America... those expectations just got a lot more serious. A lot more life and death, which Bucky knows is a rush that’s easy to go trigger happy with just out of the terror of what you’ll be responsible for if you let yourself take things seriously. 

All this new weight Steve has- both literal and figurative- has to be hard as hell to deal with so suddenly. Just as hard as what Bucky is having to deal with in terms of being out of control. Christ, Steve’s problem is pretty much just the opposite. He’s been given too much too soon, and that’s saying something, because Steve has always acted like he carries the burden of the world on his back. 

Bucky sighs again and lowers an arm to scrub his palm over his jaw, still scraped with stubble from where his supply of shaving cream and razors has dropped low. The shower definitely helped clear his nerves a little bit, but the hot water has done exactly nothing for what’s simmering in his belly, which is definitely more than just arousal at the thought of getting Steve alone in his tent. If he ever shows up, that is. 

When he does…

Bucky sits up and blows a wayward strand of drying hair out of his face, suddenly determined. A lecture isn’t going to subside, not when Steve is so obviously caught up like this. And fuck if Bucky is going to sit by and not give Steve what he needs- if his sweetheart wants action, that’s what he’ll get. Bucky’ll just have to redirect what kind it is to get the message in. 

The message being _behave_. _Let me lead where you aren’t yet certain. Let me have your back. Don’t go about things so recklessly where you ought to know better than that._

Because Steve _does_ , even if he needs to be reminded. Bucky is more than willing to do that. This might be bigger than any alley way brawl Steve has ever been in, but Bucky’s still over here to wade in and get him out from over his head, isn’t he? Steve is supposed to be back home. _Safe_. But if he’s over here, Bucky has to try and do his best- do what he _can-_ to keep him under control. Bucky’s control, for tonight. Maybe the last of it he has left to offer. 

Jesus, he’s being a downer tonight, even with how _up_ he’s ready to be when Steve walks through those tent flaps.

He uses both hands to rake his hair back, clasping them over the back of his neck once they’re through, taking the motion as a chance to w himself a little and get his bearings while he’s still alone. He’s not exactly seeing red anymore the way he did when Steve _punched a goddamn tank earlier_ but there’s still more than enough in there for him to be antsy with too much opportunity there is for him to sit in it. He needs something to do, probably. 

If he were back home and feeling like this, he’d go to a dance hall or the Y and sweat it out a little- maybe do that instead with Steve in their apartment, for that matter. But god knows where Steve is right now (realistically Bucky is pretty sure he’s taking his own shower) and how long Bucky can sit here and do nothing. He’s not leaving, that’s for sure, not when he has his boyfriend’s stubborn ass to confront for his actions today- but fuck if he’s going to lay here and wallow when he has plans to make, probably plans to prepare for. 

So, with that thought in mind, he squares his shoulders and sets his mind back to a mode that’s never fully switched off but is still relievingly familiar: taking care of Steve. In one of the best ways he knows how, tonight. By taking the reins from Steve while they’re together, getting him out of his head by getting him out of being in charge. God knows the both of them probably need that more than ever now, especially with the point Bucky’s going to be trying to get across with things. 

_How_ he’s going to be getting that across is most definitely going to require more than words- and it’s only when he spots Steve’s now unused show duffel in the corner that Bucky remembers another answer he’d given Steve the night of their reunion. This one less was loaded, but equally as promising. 

He’d said it at the time half as a line and half as a lazy suggestion about what might happen at a later date if Steve responded favorably to it- which he did. His gasp and the way he went still had been a sure sign of that. Bucky thinks the offer had been pretty appealing- it had appealed to _him_ a hell of a lot. 

_“I’ll be taking those uniform gloves of yours and seeing if I can get your ass red enough to match them.”_

A pretty good offer if Bucky does say so himself. They’ve done shit like it before- when Bucky said he took care of Steve back home, waded in and always got him out, he meant that in terms of Steve within himself as well. Spanking him wasn’t exactly a weekly occurrence in the way scolding often was, and it wasn’t usually punishment so much as play- but there’d been the odd occasion where Bucky hauled him over his lap just to get him from acting like such a terror from how tensed up he was. He’d needed that release before he could get his head back on straight, sometimes. 

He needs it now, from how he’s been acting, and Bucky will be damned if he isn’t able to provide. 

There’s an underlying fear that he won’t be able to that he can’t help but dwell on. He’s still strong (albeit still also a little off kilter from the weeks he spent without in the hands of Hydra) but Steve is now stronger. Enhanced. Quick to heal. They’d had sex and Bucky’d still been able to do the job then to get Steve walking after with a hitch in his step, and he’d never resent his lover even if he hadn’t- but he might’ve resented himself. Hell, he might resent himself a little right now anyways.

No try, no do, though. With Steve, Bucky is always going to try. 

He pushes up off the bed and goes over to the bag, mindful of how loudly he steps in case anyone comes and wonders why he’s in here alone. If they make good on Bucky’s plans for tonight, they might need to take this somewhere else with how noisy Steve’ll most likely be. There’s not usually too many options, but as luck would have it their camp is pretty near the town they’d successfully defended earlier this week, and the people aren’t back yet with how half the buildings are no longer standing, but there’s still an antique shop up on the far side of it that Bucky bets he could high tail it to before Steve gets back. Leave a note for him and tell him to meet him there later, give Bucky enough time to get things ready. 

_Things_ being Steve’s ever enjoyable USO uniform. _And_ Bucky nerves- yeah, as worked up as the idea of all this is getting him in a more positive way, he hasn’t forgotten what’s driving this or the lecture he knows he’s gonna give Steve after he spanks him for all the dumb shit he’s been pulling lately. After he takes care of him physically so Steve will really let him _take care of him_. 

A half bombed out antique shop with upholstery that has seen better days is nowhere near as nice as the hotel room they’d spent the night of their reunion in, but it’ll do. Bucky will make do like he always does for them. And besides- what Bucky has planned is a little too loud for doing it here with people so near. Hell, with how noisy Steve is now that he has functioning lungs, it’s hard enough to sneak in _anything_. They haven’t had a proper moment to themselves in half a week. It’s just been making Bucky go even more stir crazy on being out of control. 

As he writes the note to Steve about where he’ll be waiting, though, he has a feeling of calm determination that he hasn’t had since before he shipped out. It’s refreshing, even more so than the chilly night air that hits him as soon as he steps out of the tent with Steve’s bag slung over his shoulder. It’s late enough for most people to either be in the mess tent eating or their own tents, which again is probably a good thing with how preoccupied Bucky is on getting out of here. Even if anyone asked, he’d just tell them he’s on his way to scout out the damage.

No one does ask, though, thank god. Bucky still isn’t feeling very sociable, but he is feeling a bit smug once he hits the road to town. There’s still the frustration there, still the slightly frantic edge of fear about not being able to reel Steve back in- but now that Bucky at least has a plan, it’s a bit calmer. He knows Steve is more than willing even like this to let Bucky take the lead when they’re loving up on each other. If Bucky has nothing, he at least has that. He at least has Steve in general. He’s just trying to keep it that way. 

God knows his punk ass needs to be kept out of trouble, especially now that a goddamn super soldier serum has filled it out and made it quicker to run into all those fights he picked even when he was small. 

The bag over Bucky’s shoulder is thankfully light, the journey easy, and by the time he makes it to the edge of town and starts his trek down the street to find the shop he’s looking for, it’s barely been fifteen minutes. Steve is mostly likely about to arrive at his tent himself, shower fresh and surprised at finding Bucky’s request. That makes Bucky smile a bit.

As sore as he is at him right now, he really is genuinely glad to get some alone time with him, make sure he still knows Bucky is his and he’s Bucky’s. 

Steve had expressed some insecurities about that the first night they were back together after Azzano- as if _Bucky_ was the one who ought to want to take an out now. Steve has more than one lesson he needs to get through that thick skull of his, huh? One stubborn son of a bitch, his sweetheart is, not knowing Bucky is stuck on him for good by now. Never gonna quit on him. Neither of them have ever been quitters, have they? The fact Bucky’s made it over here so long and Steve has made it here at all proved that. 

The shop in question Bucky is looking for is on the corner of the street, next to a barber shop that’s sadly in shambles from this week’s earlier raids. The building Bucky has his eyes on is almost completely fine, at least. There’s no structural damage so much as cosmetic, luckily enough, and Bucky barely has to sidestep any debris when his boots finally hit the wood of the steps leading up to it and the unlocked door is easily giving way for him to step inside with the bell chiming above his head behind him while he pushes forward to scope things out on the interior. 

He’d passed by here when the Howlies were in town doing their duty. He’d been a little busy at the time, but that hadn’t stopped him from picking up on the view he spotted through the window- he’s got a sniper’s eye, and all. He’s been trained to notice small details, even if _this_ detail was less for the job and more for his jollies. 

_This_ detail is a couch. Admittedly a very ugly couch that’s seen much better days (and a lot less dust) but a couch nonetheless that looks a lot more soft and secluded than anything a cot and tent could offer them back at camp. Bucky will take small wins until they can get a big one. Besides, it kind of reminds him of Sarah’s old couch from back home- the one they’d had to sell after she died. They have a lot of memories necking on that couch. A lot of their firsts were done there too, away from Bucky’s perpetually crowded family home. 

Seeing something so tacky and trite shouldn’t make his heart ache so much, but it does.

He sets Steve’s duffel on it and takes a slow look around at everything else. Like most places these days, it isn’t much. A few mostly empty shelves with trinkets Bucky isn’t interested in on them, a lamp in the corner Bucky tries that won’t turn on (it’s alright- he brought some matches and there’s an oil lamp on the table by the couch that’ll give off enough light), a dusty mirror in the corner that Bucky surveys himself in for a moment before turning to return to the couch and pull what he needs out of the bag. 

He’s filled back out a bit from where he thinned out at Azzano, even if his cheeks haven’t quite stopped looking hollowed out. Thanks to the shower and fresh set of fatigues he put on, he’s looking relatively fixed up even if there are still bags under his eyes and a shadow on his jaw. He’s pretty sure Steve likes him a little stubbly though, with how he’s taken to melting at every little touch of beard burn and rubbing his own smooth face up against Bucky’s neck like a cat. 

Bucky smiles at the last memory he has of Steve kissing up at his jawline until his lips were rubbed red and rubs his own hand over the area before dropping it to open up Steve’s duffel and fit it in there instead to feel around for what he’s wanting. 

The gloves come out first, easiest to find with the smooth texture of them and being what Bucky wants the most anyways. They’re the integral part of tonight’s plans, but also-

The next item is a little harder to find with all the fabric tangling together (no one had taught Steve how to fold clothes at basic either, it seems) but as soon as Bucky’s fingers find cool metal, he knows he’s found what he wants. It takes a little work to get free, but after a few tugs and fumblings to straighten out the belt loops of Steve’s shorts, Bucky has it in hand- the belt. Steve’s belt. 

_Belt_ might be a generous term. Cheap leather colored blue, thin cut to fit in the narrow loops of Steve’s (already very short) shorts and topped off with a gold buckle planted right in the middle. It’s a bit flimsy and gaudy like the rest of the outfit, but Bucky’s already put most of the other parts to use, so why not this one as well? Bucky’s a man who likes to follow through when he can- and in this place, what he _can_ and _can’t_ do is dictated to him a little too much by things he doesn’t have any say in, so it’s nice to choose what he wants for once. 

The gloves and belt are all he thinks he wants to bring into play tonight- the shirt and shorts are about one good wear away from being completely worn in if they don’t get a chance to wash them pretty soon. Bucky might be a disgusting pervert in some (many) ways, but doing it in dirty laundry is not one of them. Not exactly a turn on, even if everything about Steve always is enough to get him there no matter what he’s wearing. The tights are something they’ve yet to make use of, although Bucky’s heard Steve was less than enthused about having to wear them in front of everyone (which makes the idea of making him wear them just for _Bucky_ even more appealing). 

He settles for those two items, closing the bag back up and tucking it under the couch to get it out of the way and free up the space Steve and his own body will hopefully soon be filling. Steve _should_ be on his way here by now, so Bucky doesn’t waste much more time in lighting the lamp he spotted before to get the room glowing and blowing out the match while he makes his way over to the front of the store and yanks the blinds of the windows shut so that on the off chance some wayward soul happens to wander by here or try and come make their own time with a nurse inside, there won’t be much to see besides that the store is already occupied. He’ll lock the door behind Steve just in case, anyways. 

And speak of the goddamn devil- or at least the goddamn punk- because Bucky doesn’t have to wait but another five minutes lounging on the couch to test out the spring of it with the gloves and belt sat on the arm before the bell that had chimed when he came in is ringing again and then there’s Steve, stepping shyly inside. 

As if he isn’t here on explicit invitation. Bucky’s still irritated, but he can’t help but internally warm. Steve has never been shy in the conventional sense except when someone is especially kind to him, but the serum has everyone almost _always_ trying to be nice to him now, and the resulting golden retriever attitude it has Steve wearing when he _isn’t_ being a reckless punk on the job is a sweet sight to see- especially when the sweetest side of it is still always just for Bucky- to say the least. 

Well, Bucky actually has a lot to say tonight. But first things first- 

“Hey, Stevie. Was worried you might be standing me up.” That’s a lie only meant to draw Steve closer, but they both know that. Bucky’s used almost all the the same tricks since he was sixteen, after all. 

Steve takes his own initiative to lock the door behind him, obviously knowing at least part of why they’re both here. “Would never, Buck. Just didn’t know a secret rendezvous was in the cards tonight.” He’s fresh from the shower just like Bucky expected, blonde strands soft and without product when Steve brushes his bangs back from his face and walks over to Bucky, ending up settling in front of him, hands tucked behind his back like he’s at parade rest and leaning forward to silently ask for a kiss. 

Bucky gives it to him, hand gripping at the back of his neck with gun calluses that Steve can no doubt feel against his damp skin. Jesus, he looks so sweet like this. It Bucky hadn’t been there earlier, he’d be under the exact impression this is Steve being the cleancut goody two shoes soldier everyone thinks he is. But as things are... Bucky saw _everything_ he pulled earlier today. And Steve might be his good boy half the time, but he’s a reckless punk as well, and one kiss isn’t enough for Bucky to forget or forgive it. 

Steve will have to earn that. Even if he isn’t yet aware of that fact, smiling up at Bucky and pushing eagerly into another kiss that Bucky lets him take until he decides to take it over for himself and pulls him tighter against him, fresh fabric of their fatigues pressing together. He’ll be learning his lesson soon enough, though. Bucky will be making sure of that. 

He lets the first hint of steel slip in his voice right after he finishes letting his tongue do the same in Steve’s mouth, filthy noise filling the room when they part. “Well, I kind of had a sudden change in heart today about how I wanted to spend the night,” he says, curling his fingers around the nape of Steve’s neck even tighter. “It was a long one today. Things got pretty close a couple times.” His words are careful, and if Steve noticed, he seems too content curling up in Bucky’s hold to care. 

“Yeah, but that’s what I’m here for, right?” Steve noses his way against Bucky’s neck while Bucky’s free hand wraps around his waist to grip at his side. “It ended up okay.”

“What?” Bucky asks, eyebrows furrowing. For a moment, he can’t even be stern or sarcastic, because he has no idea what that means. 

But then, Steve is speaking, and everything Bucky had felt earlier, has felt all _night_ , comes rushing right back. “You know, take risks. _Captain_ _America_ is supposed to save the day and all his men, whatever. It worked, anyways.” His voice is exaggerated on the first portion- like this is all some big joke Bucky isn’t sure he wants to be in on. Putting himself in danger is a laughing matter?

Bucky stares over Steve’s ducked down shoulder incredulously, right into his own reflection in the mirror in the corner. He can practically _see_ himself getting mad. “It... worked,” Bucky repeats, slow and sounding almost stupid. Because that’s _exactly_ what this answer is. 

Steve must hear something in his voice this time, because a second later he’s pulling back with a blink equally as slow. “Well... yeah,” he says, now slightly uncertain. “I mean, I’m here, aren’t I?” He leans in and kisses Bucky again, soft and so sweet Bucky almost feels bad for being sore at him. Or he would, if he hadn’t just heard the bullshit he spouted off. 

He waits until after the kiss to speak again. “ _Barely,_ ” he says, voice dangerously quiet with how hard he’s trying to contain it in. So much for saving this speech until later. “You could have died today, Steve. We all could have.”

Steve’s expression is taken aback and growing defensive in a way Bucky has seen a million times before- he’s not thinking about being good or sweet anymore. All he’s thinking about is fighting back. “I kept that from happening.”

“You kept us from trying to _help!_ ” Bucky snaps. “You kept us from doing our jobs because you were to busy trying to play the hero that last time I checked you weren’t sure you wanted to be!” He’d been so afraid the night they reunited that Cap would be all Bucky would see with this new body, and had been so _relieved_ when it wasn’t. 

Steve has stepped back now, although he’s still looking at Bucky face to face so that Bucky can see every emotion that flits across him. Anger, hurt, confusion- everything Bucky’s been feeling as well, although there’s something else in there he doesn’t quite recognize or know how to place. 

“I’m trying my best to be what everyone needs,” he says tightly, arms drawing in and up around his sides like he’s holding himself the way Bucky no longer is. It’s painful just to see even _without_ listening to what he’s saying. “This body- that’s what I’m supposed to use it for.”

Bucky scoffs and looks to the side. “This body- Steve, that body is still _yours_ . You are not a weapon, and you sure as hell aren’t your shield. We already got one of those.” He looks him straight in the eye and tries to keep his jaw from trembling with how hard he’s clenching it. “We don’t need you to _save_ us every time, Steve. Azzano was your first experience in the field. I get that.” Because he _does_. “But we’re your team, pal. We’re your men. Not your mission.”

“I know that,” Steve bites back. “I- I _know._ ” His words are getting jumbled up the more worked up he gets, same as always. 

Bucky takes advantage of that to interrupt him. “Then you’ve gotta learn to work with us. Not around us, not ahead of us- you _asked_ us to join you.”

“Because I want you with me,” Steve whispers. “All of you- I just-“ He’s hunched in on himself like something hurts deep inside, and Bucky wishes there was a better way to have this conversation, one that wouldn’t hurt the both of them so much- but there isn’t. Jesus, talk about a mood killer.

He has to swallow and take a deep breath, voice calmer when he goes on. “And I told you... if you’re over here, I’m glad it’s with me.” He reaches up a slow hand to set back on Steve’s shoulder, grip grounding them both. “But sweetheart, if you’re gonna be over here, you have to let us take a little of the load on too.”

Steve’s eyes look suspiciously shiny, even in the low light of the lamp beside them. “Buck-“

Bucky shakes his head and carries on. He needs to get this out and Steve needs to hear it. “We’ve been carrying it longer than you, and I know Peggy and Phillips and the rest of the brass might think differently, but- baby, you’re in a war now. Not a military comic. The change is going to take some getting used to.” He squeezes his shoulder, palm digging into his bicep. “More than just physically.”

“I’m handling it _fine_ ,” Steve tries to insist, voice wavering enough to tell Bucky everything he needs to know. “This is what I’ve always wanted. What I was made into this for.”

Bucky can’t help but move closer, keeping his eyes locked with Steve’s the entire time. “But you’re not the only one over here.” He takes a step forward and can hear the sound of his boyfriend’s breath hitching. 

Steve doesn’t have an answer for that one, it seems, not with how his mouth flounders for it and comes up empty. He looks lost. 

Bucky presses on, determined to see this through. Steve has to hear it. “I didn’t ask to come over here, but I am. The Howlies didn’t ask to be captured, but we were. We’re here to protect people now- to do what we can to _help_ , just like you. Don’t make that be in vain because you’re running reckless to keep us from doing our duty.” He leans their foreheads together, and Steve is still wound up tight, but he doesn’t move away. “You might be super, but you’re not the only soldier here.”

Steve’s hands wrap around Bucky’s waist instead now, holding tight. All the argument has seemingly sapped out of him, at least the aggressive kind. His words are a whisper when he tries to offer a response, still trying to protest the way he always does. Stubborn _punk._

“Everyone is expecting me to be a leader because of what happened with Azzano- and I don’t regret that, Buck, how can I?” He buries his face in Bucky’s neck, mournful response muffled into his skin. “But I just- being a hero is _hard._ I don’t know how to get it right. How to be what everyone needs.”

“It doesn’t have to be,” Bucky says gently. “Not when you have the Howlies to have your back. Not while I’m here-“

“To hold my hand?” Steve offers weakly.

Bucky laughs a little hoarsely and twists to kiss Steve’s hair, clean and smelling of soap. “To hold your hand. Help watch your six. Hell, I’d hide a body for you if you ask.” Steve’s sigh is shaky against his shoulder, but it leaves him more lax than before, so Bucky welcomes the sound gratefully. “You’re still getting the hang of things. If you let us help, that’ll come a lot quicker.”

“I’ve never really been great at asking for help.” That’s true. Bucky’d had to practically force him to accept it after his Ma died and he was left on his own.

Bucky kisses his hair again, hugging him closer. “Don’t have to ask when it’s me, honey. I know you.”

“Sometimes I just... forget,” Steve says distantly. “That I was someone before I was this. Erskine made me promise to remember that I’m not a perfect soldier, but the way everyone treats me…”

“I’m always gonna remind you when you need it,” Bucky promises. They both sit on that for a second before Steve starts going on.

“It’s okay for you to need some reminding too, you know,” he says quietly. “After what you’ve been through... I’ve only been here with you for a week, but I’ve seen how easy it is to lose yourself to what happens. I know how far away you feel from home.”

Bucky stills slightly and lets out a sigh of his own. But if Steve can find it in him to be honest...so can Bucky. 

“It is easy,” he admits, agreement heavy in his tone with just how much he shares that sentiment. “I miss- Jesus, I miss everything. Feels like my control over everything in my life was practically ripped away.” Steve stiffens at the confession, but stays silent to allow Bucky to continue, although Bucky knows just how painful to hear your lover suffering is. He’s just been through that himself, after all. “I’m not like you Steve,” he murmurs, stroking over his back with a slightly nervous hand. Steve already knows about this next part, but it’s still a touchy subject for them both. “I didn’t want to be over here, even if I’m doing my best to find peace with it. Ever since I got drafted I’ve felt lost, but then leaving you, leaving _everything_ behind for this hellhole-“

Steve makes an unhappy sound that echoes around the shop, a whine that’s awful and weary. “Buck-“

“Some days it was I was clinging to the last of myself,” Bucky says lowly. “And then you- god, Steve, you showed up here and it threw me for a loop. I knew you wanted to come but I didn’t know you were ever going to get here.” Then, because he can feel Steve tensing up to reply, “It’s not because I didn’t believe in you, punk. If there’s a will- and with you there _always_ is- there’s a way. But your way was pretty out of this world, yeah? Can you really blame me for being a little surprised?”

Steve’s answer is slow to come out, but he responds reluctantly. “No.”

Bucky sighs. “You’re the one thing over here I’m used to- even if you’re a little different. _I’m_ a little different. I know that.” He tightens his hold and lets Steve lift his head up to look at him with worried eyes. “You’re the one thing familiar I’m used to taking care of and keeping safe. And today...the idea of not being able to do that…”

“Me being out of control made you feel like that too,” Steve finishes with a whisper. “Buck…”

“Stevie…” Bucky is lost. The answer is yes, they both know that. It’s just hard to admit it. Christ, tonight’s plans are a little off schedule, huh? Crying was supposed to happen later on the agenda. For him, at least. Steve’s cry was supposed to be cathartic, although he supposes this talk is accomplishing at least a little of that for them both. “I know you don’t need me to take care of you anymo-“

“But I _do_.” Steve’s confession comes out in a rush that leaves him wide eyed and blushing with how pleading he must know he sounds. As if it isn’t music to Bucky’s ears. “I need you still, Buck. Always.” Then, quieter, “Maybe even more than ever right now.”

_Oh_. Bucky feels relief bloom in his chest, even as Steve presses against it with his own and goes on like he can’t keep the words in any longer. 

“You told me the first night when I got you back that you’d take good care of me. And when I said you always do- I meant that. That hasn’t stopped- Buck,” Steve says, and then there’s tears in his eyes, bright and blue even in the shitty light of a half bombed antique shop. Prettiest damn thing Bucky has ever seen and he’ll still got all his clothes on, even. “Buck,” Steve says again. “I’m still yours. You _said_ I was still your baby like this.” He pauses and there’s a pitiful sound coming from him that Bucky is pretty sure is because of him. 

Steve’s next words only make him certain of that. 

“Please don’t take that away after you’ve already lost so much,” he whispers. “You don’t have to lose me too- I know things aren’t the same, but not everything has to change for us both. I-“ He sobs then, only a singular time, but it’s enough to have Bucky pulling him down to collapse them both on the couch, tangled up in each other so tight Bucky thinks they could spend the rest of the war there, just the two of them. 

“Oh, baby,” Bucky says, his own voice thick. “I’m never gonna take that away from you. I still need you- it’s the idea of you not needing me that’s eating me up inside.”

“Even if I didn’t need you- and I _do_ , Buck,” Steve says quietly, lifting up to look at Bucky with a determined look that’s still watery around the edges. “I _want_ you. And you said you still want me too. We’re the ones in control of that.”

There’s a lull between them while the messages they’ve shared sink in- Bucky might be the one trying to teach Steve a lesson here (although his initial plan has gotten a little derailed), but he’s learning a little something too. 

“Control sure seems to be my issue,” Bucky jokes weakly after a few moments, using his thumb to swipe away at a residual tear pooling under Steve’s lower lashes, darkened and clumped together. 

Steve sniffs, but smiles a little at the attempt to lighten the mood, resting his head on the back of the couch while he lolls it to the side to look at Bucky head on. “Sometimes I feel a little overwhelmed with how much of it I’ve got, so feel free to take a little of it off my hands.”

“Letting the team help you out might be a good start with that,” Bucky says, tugging on a strand of Steve’s hair just to get his smile a bit wider. It works. “I know you’ve got a lot on your plate, kid. A lot in too little time. But you can’t go running off into danger without trying to learn how to work with us. Isn’t fair to you or them or anything we accomplished together before you got over here.”

Steve sighs and moves his head forward to rest on Bucky’s shoulder. “I’m sorry.” He sounds like he means it with all the guilt lacing his tone, and Bucky knows he does. 

“I’m sorry too,” Bucky says, kissing his forehead and wincing at the questioning look Steve gives him, quick to explain. “I dragged you out here with some more enjoyable plans in mind before we got into all of this, but we’ve gotten it a little out of order.”

Steve, even with his face splotchy with the wrong kind of tears, looks interested. And a bit hopeful. “You don’t want to try and follow through on them anymore?”

Bucky laughs, head feeling clearer than it has in a week, and flicks his eyes behind Steve where the gloves and belt are still sitting on the arm of the couch. Steve’s head turns immediately, and as soon as he sees what Bucky has laid out, whips back around to look at him with wide eyes and a flushed expression. 

“You-“ he starts, cutting himself off with a swallow that Bucky thinks might be slightly hesitant. “You wanna do that _here_? Now?”

“Only if you want to too,” Bucky promises. “If it’s too much, we don’t have to.” He means that. They have a signal of sorts set up to check in when they do anything that could be classified as intense (and this definitely could be with how floaty it gets Steve going) but doing it blatantly beforehand is always something Bucky likes to do, especially when Steve is looking at him with the expression that he is. 

Wanting, but uncertain. When Steve speaks, Bucky finds out why.

“It’s not because you’re _really_ mad at me, is it?” Steve asks, voice meeker than Bucky’s heard it in years. “I mean- I know we’ve done this before, but- is this about you still being mad I came over here?” He sounds worried.

And fuck, that’s the question that started all of this, isn’t it? It’s time for Bucky to give him a real answer now. 

But now that the moment has come...Bucky isn’t quite sure what to say. The short answer is yes, there’s still some anger there. There probably always will be- but that’s not why Bucky wants to do this. To get the frustration out, sure, but never to really hurt Steve, never to punish him in a way he didn’t know he deserved. That’s the whole point of doing this outside of just play or getting off- it’s to make them both feel better, to get what they need. Release. Retribution. Resolve. It’s all about that in the end. 

Steve is looking at him anxiously, face already on the verge of going guarded, which is an expression Bucky can’t stand. Not when it’s because of him. 

So he takes in a deep breath to prepare himself before proceeding forward with words carefully chosen. “I meant what I said the first time. I’m not- I _can’t_ ever be mad that you’re back with me, but I sure as hell wish it wasn’t here, under these circumstances.” He grips Steve’s neck to ground him just so he knows everything is okay in the meantime while he works his way through finding the end of his answer. “But, Stevie, everything I said the night I left and before that...I meant that too.”

Steve nods, jaw clenching. Trying to be understanding now that he’s taking the blame for himself. 

Which again, Bucky can’t stand. He continues on, slow but steady. “Coming over here, the only thing keeping me going was knowing everything I was doing was to keep you back home. _Safe_.” He looks at Steve, a little sadly. “I told you not to no anything stupid until I got back, punk. When you said I was taking it with me, I didn’t think you were gonna try and chase right after it.”

“Buck-“ Steve says hoarsely, but Bucky isn’t done. 

He shakes his head. “I’m only mad at you the way I always am when you let yourself get into a fight with rotten odds.” He smiles halfheartedly and scuffs the nape of his neck fondly. “I wish you wouldn’t. I don’t like that you do, but I understand that you wouldn’t be you if you didn’t do what you thought was right. I understand _why_ you felt like this was the best option even if I might not agree.”

Steve is very quiet, eyes searching Bucky’s face for a lie like he’s afraid the other shoe is about to drop. “You do?”

“I don’t like seeing you out of control, but outside of what you let me do when we’re together like this,” he squeezes the back of his neck and kisses him chastely on the lips just to get across exactly what _this_ is supposed to mean, “I don’t actually want to control you or your decisions, Steve. You wouldn’t be you if I did, and losing you is the last thing I want.”

“You won’t,” Steve breathes out, crowding in closer for another kiss that Bucky accepts gratefully. “I just- I don’t want to do this if you’re gonna still be mad at me after.” 

Bucky gets that, because that’s part of the only thing that makes the idea of this enjoyable- the knowledge that after it’s all done and Bucky thinks Steve has learned his lesson, whatever that was behind doing it for more than just play is in the past, forgiven in full. 

He takes in a deep breath and thinks about how tired he’s been this past week, caught up in his head and feeling horribly out of control. Thinks about how good it feels to have Steve against him right now, curled up and clear in understanding everything Bucky has said to him. Those two things- which one he’d rather choose- are what helps him make the decision to get his next words out, calm and certain. 

“I won’t be. I can’t promise I won’t get mad again if you do something else stupid, but for this? You let me take care of you- _trust_ me to take care of you and do _both_ my jobs while we’re over here…” He kisses Steve just to seal the deal before he finishes. “I’ll forgive you for following me if you forgive me for leaving.”

Steve’s eyes stay closed when Bucky pulls back far enough to get a good look at him, breath coming out even while he tries to stay composed. They haven’t talked about that part of things, not since Steve got so mad the moment Bucky got his draft letter that he’d locked himself in the bedroom and cried angry tears for a solid hour that he’d refused to talk about when he finally resurfaced after. 

They both know it isn’t Bucky’s fault he had to leave, just like it isn’t Steve’s for being handed all the control Bucky sorely misses on a platter. But the feelings are still there, even with all the knowing, and that’s the thing that they both need to get out. On both ends, because Steve has as much of a right to his feelings as Bucky does.

Steve seems to agree, because his words are sure when he responds, even if they come out soft. “I’ll forgive you as long as you forgive me, Buck,” he says. 

Bucky exhales a sigh of relief and leans their foreheads back together. “This is for both of us,” he tells him, because it is, and they both need to know that before he can feel comfortable to begin. That’s how this always goes- if they do this, it has to be for the right reasons, otherwise the guilt Steve is feeling won’t go away, and neither will Bucky’s frustration. 

Steve nods. “I know.”

The certainty in his tone is all that Bucky needs to have the go ahead, clasping Steve’s neck one last time before pulling back and looking at Steve with a promising smile to help lighten the mood. “Then how about we get this started before the war’s over?”

Steve smiles and leans back as well, hands tucking in his lap. “Do your worst, old man.”

It’s a tease Bucky’s usually the one to throw out- Steve usually _hates_ when Bucky refers to himself as that- but Bucky takes it in stride, grin going cocky as he settles back into the couch with his torso facing forward and legs spreading apart like he owns the place and isn’t just in it on bombed-out borrowed time. “Get up and get those pants down, then. Boots off. And how about you fold your shit for once, huh?”

Steve looks indignant but does as Bucky says, standing and beginning to shuck out of his fatigues, boots and belt lined up alongside his duffel Bucky tucked under the couch and too fresh fabric of his fatigues folding down to bare his legs while Bucky lays back to watch with a lazy smile. When Steve sees him leering, he blushes like Bucky isn’t about to be doing a _whole_ lot more in just a minute. 

“See something you like?” He’s fishing for a compliment, Bucky can tell. 

Who would Bucky be not to give him one? He drops a hand to fit over the growing bulge in his own pants and drawls out his answer. “Kept those pretty legs of yours, huh? No wonder they had you prancing around in those tights.” He eyes Steve’s thighs, thicker than they used to be, but still lean and looking as good as ever. 

Steve’s head ducks down at the same time the rest of his torso does to stack his folded pants on the floor. “Surprised you didn’t get those out tonight too.”

“And miss seeing that pretty ass of yours turn red? Never.” Bucky grins and twirls his finger at Steve, still clad in his socks, shirt, and underwear before him. “Underwear off too. How about you turn around and give me a show with it?”

Steve groans. “You’re awful.”

Bucky laughs when Steve does as he’s told anyways and turns to face the curtained storefront before peeling down the last layer covering his lower half and presenting Bucky with an excellent view as he bends back down to step out of the hems. “Just want a good look at the goods.” He fixes his eyes on Steve’s now-bared ass, perfect and even more perky courtesy of the serum. “They look _real_ good from where I’m sitting.”

“Yeah?” Steve asks lowly, still facing the front with how Bucky hasn’t told him to turn back around again. He’s trying to be on his best behavior now. 

Bucky smiles and shifts in his seat, thighs spreading further to get comfortable for what’s coming. “Yeah, babydoll. Turn back around so I can see both sides, c’mon.” Steve does, and Bucky whistles out low at the sight of Steve’s stiffening cock pushing up from between his legs. “All that for me? Just from a few nice words and promises to spank you?”

Steve flushes redder and looks embarrassed, but his dick also twitches- Bucky knows _exactly_ how much he likes a little sour with his sweetness. “I kinda was hoping we’d do a little more than _just_ that.”

Bucky hums and palms over his own erection again, bulge visible enough through his pants for Steve’s eyes to drop down and fix on it. “You take your licks like a good boy and we’ll see about all that- don’t think for a second that your big new body is going to keep me from making good on my promise.”

“Promise?” Steve says hopefully, shifting on his feet with his arms clasped back behind his sides. He knows Bucky always makes good on those.

Bucky grins and pats his thighs in invitation. “Told you I was gonna get your ass as red as these gloves, didn’t I? Now c’mere and get over my lap.” While he’s waiting for Steve to get moving, he stretches out an arm and grabs the gloves and belt to set beside him, right by where Steve ends up lowering his elbows, pillowing his face in his arms with his legs kicked out behind him. 

It’s a bit of an awkward fit considering to forgeign setting and the fact that Steve is a good ten inches taller than he was the last time they were in this position- but it’s a fit nonetheless, one that Steve settles into more than eagerly once his cock nestles into the open space between Bucky’s spread legs where his own erection is stiff against him. The blonde wiggles down and presses friction against them both, drawing out a breathy sigh from himself and getting Bucky to groan. 

“Jesus, Stevie, quit liking it so much when we haven’t even started,” he teases, picking up the gloves and setting them on Steve’s bared back where his shirt has rucked up. Steve makes a noise at the first touch of cool leather on his skin, and then another when Bucky laughs at him for it. “Eager beaver, aren’t we?”

Steve groans. He’s heard that line before. “You’re the one being a tease, Buck.”

“And you’re the one being a little punk,” Bucky counters happily, well aware they both know the nickname is a very thinly veiled word for _brat_ half the time. “I’m just getting things ready. You know, for all that you didn’t like your uniform, I’m finding it pretty useful.” 

He picks up the belt next and brings it up to dangle from his hand in front of Steve’s face by the buckle, grin flashing smugly where Steve can’t see it until he twists his head around to give Bucky a wide eyed look that’s more than a little wanting as well. 

“Yeah, this thing might be a little flimsy for giving you the belting we both know you’d love to take, but,” Bucky uses his free hand to reach down and gather both of Steve’s wrists up gently in his palm until his intention is clear. “I think I can find something else it’s good for besides keeping those little shorts of yours up, yeah?”

Steve’s eyes fix almost dazedly on Bucky’s fingers when he uses them to carefully wrap the belt around his wrists, loose enough for his blood flow not to stop but still enough to strain when he tries to shift as Bucky pulls the slack end to tighten the buckle down and secure it. He swallows and looks from his bound hands back up at Bucky, blue eyes blown. 

Bucky can’t help but lean down and kiss him, sighing as their cocks brush against each other again with the movement. “I trust you to be good. Just figured some extra help couldn’t hurt, know you get a little loopy when we do this.”

Steve hums and doesn’t deny it (really, can’t deny it- Bucky has seen solid proof of it more than once). “Thank you, Buck.” The words come out grateful. Obedient. 

Bucky remembers just how much _he_ gets loopy when they do this too- on the dominance, just like Steve does the submission, and it’s on that note that he finally decides to stop keeping Steve waiting. He picks up the gloves, smoothing the loss of them off Steve’s skin with a last touch of his bare palm against him, shoulder to thigh until he has his thumb tracing lightly over the sensitive insides of one leg. 

“You know if you wanna stop for real, all you have to do is use the signal,” he says, voice gentle even while he’s pulling on the gloves to do something that is decidedly not. “Tell me where your head is at, sweetheart. How’s the weather down there?” It can’t hurt to check- really, it’d hurt more _not_ to. 

“Sun’s still out, sir,” Steve says, voice muffled now that he’s back to being buried in his arms. 

Bucky smiles. “That how it is tonight, sunshine?” 

They don’t often play around with honorifics- there’s always an aspect present of what roles they prefer to take in the bedroom, Bucky the leading hand and Steve the other, but most of the time Steve- never one even for pet names, at least out of his own mouth- prefers to stick to calling Bucky _Buck_ and let him take the reins on the sappy names front. It’s not odd for Steve to bring out a title when he feels in that kind of mood, just occasional, and while Bucky likes it he doesn’t tend to demand it- at least, unless Steve brings it up first. 

Now that he has….

As Steve’s nod, Bucky gives him the first tap of the night, right over the backs of one of his thighs. It’s not heavy enough to even smart, but Steve is still inhaling heavily at the action of it anyways, and Bucky smiles, smoothing his hand down over the leg so Steve can feel the sensation he’ll be working with tonight in full.

“If that’s how it is tonight, you say _yes, sir_ when I ask you a question. You say _thank you, sir_ when I give you what you want- which includes after every smack you get. You don’t have to count. I’ll decide when this stops unless you take an out. Understand?”

Steve’s ears are as red as the gloves Bucky has on, light of the lamp bending around the tips of them when he nods. “Yes, sir. Thank you.”

Bucky smacks him again, a little harder. He’s still smiling while he does it. “Thank you what?”

Steve lets out a groan high enough to be considered a whine and presses his face deeper into the cradle of his bound up arms. “Thank you, _sir._ ”

“You’re welcome, honey. Nod if you’re ready for more.” Steve nods obediently, and Bucky rubs his hand over Steve some more, the other one tucking back between his legs while he warms him up to brush against his balls and keep him interested while they do this. The private pain of it already turns him on, but it can’t hurt to help. That’s what Bucky’s here for, after all. 

The gloves are a little snug on the hands- Bucky guesses they’d had to be since the gauntlets of them are so flared- but Bucky isn’t thinking about that much when he finally lands the first real blow on Steve’s ass without warning, right to the center of one cheek that’s followed so quickly by a swat to the corresponding spot on the other that Steve barely has time to gasp out before it lands. 

“ _Oh,_ ” he breathes out, sounding slightly strangled. “Thank you, sir.” Then, almost as an afterthought, “For, um, both. Thank you for both, sir.” 

It’s so subtly snarky yet well-meant that Bucky can’t help but laugh at just how _Steve_ Steve still is, even facedown and flushed being spanked over Bucky’s lap. That’s one of the best parts about this, really. No matter where they are or what they’re doing, that’s his boy. 

“Still a punk even when you’re being sweet,” he sighs, rubbing over both of the slightly red spots he’d hit before pausing to say, “You know what happens to punks,” and bringing down his hand down hard to do it again.

Steve yelps at the harder hits, hips jerking forward with the reflex of getting away even as Bucky can still feel his cock, leaking against his own pants between his legs. “Thank you- thank you, sir.” 

Bucky smiles to himself and flips a hand over to rub the cool side of the glove lightly over Steve’s ass where it’s no doubt smarting, a small soothing gesture that takes only a second- right before he smacks him again, this time right over one sit spot, the curve where cheek hits ass that’ll hurt pretty much the most so far. He only gives him one this time- what’s the fun in not making him wait a little? Not knowing when the next hit will land is part of the torture. 

Bucky makes him wait so long after his thank you is uttered that Steve eventually lifts his head up and looks back at Bucky over his shoulder with confusion, eyes dewy from the previous spanks and fingers flexing where he’s holding them out in the front still. “Buck?” he says. Then, correcting himself, “Sir?”

Bucky doesn’t answer, just gives him a playfully stern look and scuffs the back of his neck with the hand not rubbing over his ass to get him to lay back down. Even with this new big body, he’s not hitting him with his body flexed around like that. It’s bad form. “Eyes down. Said you were going to be my good boy.”

“I _am_ ,” Steve says, bit off back into his arms and ending with another pained moan once Bucky spanks him again for the unintended sass, slap stinging on the sit spot of his opposite cheek with vengeance. “Oh-“

After that, Bucky doesn’t hold back for the next round of blows, each one landing at a consistent tempo, spanning from the supple skin of his cheeks to the sensitive spots angled towards the insides of his thighs, color ranging rosy red to a blush pink that matches the one crawling down Steve’s neck. Steve makes a noise after each one, cut off grateful cries and slapping of leather against his ass so loud in the shop Bucky thanks every deity that exists that they hadn’t been dumb enough to even _try_ doing this back at the camp.

Steve wouldn’t be the only one getting his ass worn out if that had been the case- and as much as Bucky understands why Steve likes what he likes on his end when they’re doing things like this, he doesn’t think he’d be much for enjoying the same things from a different position than he’s in right now. He kind of likes where he is currently. A lot. How can he not with Steve crying so pretty underneath him, handing himself over so sweet? Such a strong guy- now even physically- a spitfire like Steve letting Bucky have him, _see_ him in his whole is the most flattering thing in the world. At least to Bucky. 

Steve being so strong now in body as well as bluster does turn out to be a bit of an obstacle to handle with this- all the wriggling and kicking that comes reflexively from being spanked (especially in this position) is a lot more jostling than it used to be, but Bucky handles it easily enough by hooking up one of his legs to slide between Steve’s own and trap a thigh down with his weight, effectively pinning him down and spreading him open wide enough to see his cock trapped against the seam of Bucky’s pants and tender and the unmarked area peeking out between his cheeks. 

Bucky has plans to take care of _both_ of those things. 

“Gorgeous, sweetheart,” he murmurs, sliding the leather thumb of the gloves lightly from his cleft to the seam of his balls, a tease that ends in a wet sigh from Steve and flex of his fingers at the brief reprieve from sensation.

Although it’s welcome, it’s still a lot, even in this new body it seems. The enhanced healing is something Bucky got up close and personal to today thanks to his earlier antics with _punching a goddamn tank_ (he has to remind himself they’ve worked through that incident and are working on that little habit). Healing aside, Steve can definitely still _feel_ the power of Bucky’s smacks against his skin- a fact that becomes even clearer when Steve lifts up his face and Bucky can see it’s splotchy with tears- the good kind, based on how blissed out he looks. 

“Hurts,” he croaks out, deep and dreamy enough to be an observation and not a complaint. He likes it. Bucky likes hearing how much. 

“I know it hurts, but I have to make you learn your lesson, don’t I?” Bucky croons, voice dripping with false sympathy. He’ll put some salve on him later if he can rustle up any around camp. “Gotta leave my mark on you so you’ll remember you’re mine. You gonna feel me on you later? Sit down and remember what we did, where we did it?”

“I won’t forget,” Steve says softly, whimpering when Bucky lets the seam of a fingertip dig slightly into his sore skin. “Any of it. Promise. I love you, sir.”

Bucky brings over his hand to Steve’s red-bitten lips, allowing him to kiss at equally red leather, motions almost reverent. Like this, they’re everything to each other. The camp, their comrades, even the chill of the night- that’s all a second thought to them right now. Bucky wishes it could stay like this for longer. _Forever,_ but as things are, they’re on stolen time already, and anyways, Bucky has something he wants to say. 

He says it. “No.” Steve looks up at him with an expression so confused, he doesn’t even have the room to be upset at the refusal before Bucky can get to explaining. “It’s yes _sir._ Thank you _sir_.” Then, gripping his chin, “But it’s I love you _Bucky_ , got it? When you say I love you, that’s not ever part of a game.” Steve swallows and blinks, tears still lining the edge of his eyes, and Bucky shakes his chin a little just for good measure. “Now say it again so I can say it back. _Right_ , this time.”

Steve’s answer comes out in a rush. “I love you, Bucky.”

Bucky lets go of his chin and strokes over his hair instead, this touch gentler than anything else he’s doled out tonight. “I love you right back, Steve.” 

Their eyes meet and it’s like a tether back to their reality, their relationship outside of hours and headspaces like what they’re sharing now- a thread that proves wherever they’re going, whatever they’re doing, their love follows with them. Just like Steve followed Bucky here, and like Bucky is now following him- as he’d said in his own words, that little guy from Brooklyn. 

Steve blinks back a fresh round of tears Bucky knows are from reaching a similar realization, and he brushes the singular one that falls away with his thumb, salt shining on the leather until Bucky presses it up against his lips to lick it off in something that resembles a kiss. 

“Love you, sweetheart,” he repeats quietly. “You ready for me to go on?”

Steve whimpers when Bucky brushes back over between his legs again, hips rocking forward after the gentle smack Bucky lays over both his cheeks to finish off the question. “Yeah- yes, thank you, sir. Please,” he breathes out, head lolling back down until all Bucky can see is the fuzz of the short hairs on the nape of his neck glowing gold over the heat of his blush. “Want it. I’ll be good. Swear it.”

“You’re always good,” Bucky tells him, massaging over him one last time before finishing off with a grin. “Ready for some corporal punishment, Captain?” He pitches his voice low on purpose. It’s a line and he knows it. 

Steve does too. “Please don’t call me that,” he groans. “Not here- sir,” he adds on quickly. Bucky decides to give him a spank for it anyways. He’s generous like that. Steve yelps and then moans when Bucky squeezes his thigh in enough for him to effectively grind against his leg when his hips jerk forward with the momentum of the hit. “ _Fuck._ Thank you, sir.”

“When you said _swear it,_ you really meant it, huh?” Bucky drawls. “That’s not very in character for a good boy like you, is it?”

“M’only that for you,” Steve grumbles. 

“Damn right you are.” Bucky’s expression turns soft, even when his hit reflects the opposite once it lands, smacking down against the inside of his upper thigh. It’s only inches away from places that are a lot more tender, and Steve’s choked off moan is proof that he’s noticed. Bucky hums and smacks him again.

The leather isn’t of the highest quality or made for things like this, but it seems to add a nice extra sting to the sensation that Bucky has been proud to see Steve taking in stride. Even now, crying into the (still ugly) upholstery of the couch, he’s doing beautifully, and the sight of his lashes clumping together whenever he turns his face and tensing of his more than ample muscles after every hit is enough to get Bucky ready to move on to an even _more_ enjoy enjoyable part of their plans. Since they’re back on track, and all. 

He promised Steve he’d do more than just spank him if he was good- and he has been. But first, they need to get to the final part of what always has to happen when they do this- Bucky has to remind him _why_. 

He waits after another few swats to do it, easing off until he’s essentially just patting his hand lightly over where Steve’s skin is already going through the process of bruises blooming underneath. It’s pretty, just like him when he looks back to meet Bucky’s eyes at the slow down. 

“Sir?” Steve’s voice is unsure. 

Bucky doesn’t answer yet, busy stripping off one of the gloves to toss away to the side and set his bare hand free. At Steve’s searching gaze though, he can’t keep him waiting too long. He might be the patient one out of the two of them, but in moments like these- who can blame him for not having that much restraint?

“Why am I spanking you, Steve?” His tone isn’t hard, but it doesn’t leave much room for reprieve or avoiding a response. That’s the point. Steve needs to say this, get out the admittance so they can move past it. 

Steve is silent for a moment, always one to avoid answering when his first instinct is always to protest- but the silence ends as soon as Bucky’s bare fingers catch his inner thigh in a pinch. He closes his eyes after, voice coming out hesitant in the way it almost never is outside of these intimate moments. “I was reckless.”

“You were.” Bucky’s not trying to push the blame so much as let Steve know he’s acknowledging how hard it is for him to admit this when he would rather not. Even though they both know he needs to for this to take. 

“I was…” Steve’s voice catches. “I didn’t ask you or anyone else for help when I needed it.”

“You didn’t.”

“I’m sorry.” Steve’s voice is thick, like he’s about to cry again even though Bucky is no longer currently laying into him, just stroking over his sore skin with idle fingers. It’s still hot to the touch. “Sir. I’m so sorry.”

“I know you are,” Bucky murmurs. “And it’s okay, Stevie. I promised you, after this is all over, we’ll be okay. You’ll be forgiven.” He places his hand over a cheek and squeezes roughly, words turning warning. “But that doesn’t mean it’s gonna fly if you do anything like that again.”

Steve’s eyes close as he nods. “I know.”

“You’re my guy, Stevie,” Bucky says quietly. “Just like I’m yours. You can talk to me, you know? I don’t want to control you all the time, but I’m always going to help take _care_ of you when you need it.” He pets down his back, smooth and reassuring. “And it’s okay to need it.”

“I just need _you,_ Buck,” Steve says, title slipping away with how tender the moment is. Bucky doesn’t mind. “I’m always going to need you.”

“I’m always going to give you what you need,” Bucky promises, leaning down and craning his neck to kiss him. No matter how awkward the angle is for them to both bend in, the kiss is still perfect. Every one they share is. 

Still, after a few moments, the strain on their necks inevitably leads them to pull away, and Bucky continues on after. 

“Five more with my hand and this’ll all be over,” he murmurs. Then, tugging on his hair, “And since you were so good, I might be up for that _more_ you mentioned earlier.”

Steve lets out a watery laugh and wiggles his hips seemingly to let Bucky know just how still interested he is in that. The serum has done wonders for his stamina. “S’a good thing I heal quick, otherwise I don’t think I’d be able to walk tomorrow.”

“I’d carry you.” Bucky tamps down the feelings he has about Steve’s flippancy towards the idea of injury in this body in favor of rubbing his hand over where he’s planning to spank him next. 

Now that his palm is bared and these hits have intended meaning, the intimacy is up to a new level, which is why Bucky has chosen to take the glove off in the first place. Skin on skin to sink the message in, soothe the sting after it’s all said and done. 

Steve seems more than happy even without the leather, settling down into Bucky’s lap more comfortably with a sigh. “I’d let you.”

Steve is letting him do a lot already. Bucky smiles and strokes once between the space of his legs to reward him for it, brushing up against him just enough to make him let out a pleased sound. “You ready?”

Steve’s voice comes out dreamy and dazed. “ _Yeah-_ yes, sir.”

“Alright, babydoll. You can just sit there and float a little this time, don’t even have to say a word.”

And Steve doesn’t- the first hard smack Bucky doles out lands on the top of one thigh, and Steve’s is crying out before the spot even shifts from white, echoing through the shop with the higher pitched sound of skin hitting skin. The second one pulls a reaction that is almost exactly the same, only differing in the end when his groan shifts up higher at Bucky rubbing the reddened areas in a pseudo sympathetic manner. 

“Still flush so pretty for me, baby,” he rasps out. Having Steve squirm on his lap for so long hasn’t left him unaffected since they started, but coming so close to moving on has him even more on edge for it, although he doesn’t want to slack off on these last three hits a bit. Bucky Barnes sees his promises through to the end. “Almost done.”

Steve groans in response, leg twitching when Bucky brings down the third hit, higher up back towards the center of his cheeks. The marks from earlier never fully faded, and how fair Steve’s Irish skin is paired with the fresh round of blows- his ass isn’t the exact shade of red as the glove still on Bucky’s left hand, but it’s close enough for Bucky to be satisfied and smug about it anyways. 

He paints the other cheek red to match, a sharp smack that has Steve’s hands jerking where they’re still bound (when Bucky fucks him after this, he’s going to have to check in on them to make sure the belt wasn’t too much, he thinks). “Sir- Bucky,” he gets out, pained and pretty and oh so perfect. “Please.”

“One more, Stevie. One more.” Bucky’s decided to save the best for last- he’s not going to skimp out when he’s got a message to sink in. 

So, with that thought driving him forward, he shucks the other glove off of his hand and uses bare fingers to spread Steve’s cheeks apart until what Bucky’s aiming for is directly on display. Steve’s letting out a half garbled noise of confusion, but Bucky doesn’t pay it mind- it’s not his out signal, and there’s not much to explain about what he’s about to do. The air against Steve’s exposed hole is hint enough.

And even if it wasn’t, Bucky bringing down the flat of his fingers to smack down against it a moment later doesn’t leave much room for wonder. In fact, it seems it’s all Steve can do to let out noise that’s only inches short of being a wail. 

The hit had to hurt- it isn’t the hardest one Bucky’s given him tonight, but the spot it’s in is definitely the most sensitive. Steve’s always been sensitive down there- _back_ there- but the serum has done nothing but make his reactions from anything like this involving it that much sweeter. 

Case and point, the doe-eyed look he’s turning to give Bucky now from where he’s propped up on weak arms, lips flushed as red and swollen as what’s between his legs right now. On both sides, because Bucky can still feel how hard Steve is against him. 

Bucky cups his face with the hand on the side closest to it, demeanor softening with his touch. “It’s over now. You were so good for me.”

Steve sniffs and lets Bucky hold him through it, bending his bound hands up to clutch at Bucky’s wrist. “And we’re... we’re good now?” The guilt in his tone is now only hanging on by a thread Bucky is more than glad to cut. 

“It’s over. We’re fine, sweetheart. You’re forgiven,” he promises, moving down to unbuckle the belt around his wrists just to prove he’s telling the truth. He tangles his fingers with one of Steve’s hands right after, squeezing reassuringly. “Took it like a champ.” Steve’s gentle sigh and lopsided smile give him what he needs to feel okay with going on- a gesture carried out with a stupid line, as usual. “You ready to take something even better, now?”

Steve laughs wetly and drops his head back down before shifting to look back at Bucky with a hopeful expression. “You got something better to give me?”

Bucky grins, low and lazy in the lamplight. “Sugar,” he says. “I’m gonna give you the whole _world._ ” And with that, he helps haul Steve up the best he can with his new body (listen, Bucky’s no twig- hell he was a boxer and a dock grunt even before boot camp- but Steve is _heavy_ ) until the blonde is no longer laid across his lap, but rather straddling it, a thigh on either side of Bucky’s own. 

Similarly to their first night together after Azzano, Steve is hovering, but this time Bucky is pretty sure it’s out of soreness rather than restraint about his size. He reaches up a hand and rubs it down Steve’s back until it rests over the cleft of his ass, right above where his backside must still be burning. 

“You still want to go on or do you need a break?” 

Steve smiles at the check-in, but shakes his head, settling down further just to seal in his answer. “I’m fine,” he murmurs. “Just- sore. But it still feels nice.” His cheeks are burning at the admittance as if Bucky doesn’t already know how much he likes the sting sometimes. 

He hums and lets Steve slip a hand between them to toy with the collar of his shirt. “I’ll make you feel even nicer.” That’s another promise they both know he’s going to make good on. 

Steve smiles and looks at him through his lashes. “You getting naked would be pretty nice.”

“You think _I’m_ nice even after what I just did to your ass?” Bucky teases, but he’s tugging off his shirt a moment later anyways and tossing it to the side. He skips the folding. Steve doesn’t seem to notice the hypocrisy, too fixated on running his hands over the smattering of hair on his now-bare chest that climbs up towards the scruff also adorning his neck. “Although I guess I do plenty of _nice_ things to it too.”

“Nice my ass, Barnes,” Steve mutters, starting to tug off his own shirt.

His face is still shrouded by the fabric when Bucky answers, pinching at one of his nipples peeking out from under the hem. He yelps, and Bucky grins. “Your ass is very nice, yes.”

“ _Bucky_ ,” Steve complains, now naked besides his socks and Bucky down to his bottoms. 

“ _Stevie,”_ Bucky teases back. He pats his thigh a moment later as signal to climb off, watching him sit on the couch next to him with a huff and a wince when his bare ass hits the cushions. “Be a doll and get the slick from your bag- under the couch, next to your boots.”

Steve obliges, and in the meantime Bucky kicks out of his own, taking off his pants, underwear, and socks next. By the time he’s naked, Steve has taken off his socks to be the same, small container of vaseline Bucky nicked from the med tent earlier in the week by his side. His eyes fix between Bucky’s legs as soon as he turns around and Bucky smirks, getting close enough for Steve’s mouth to drop open like he wants to have a taste. 

To hell if Bucky isn’t going to offer to give him one. He gives himself a few firm strokes and looks at Steve with half lidded eyes that are obvious in offer. “Gonna help get me slicked up?”

Steve’s breath hitches, and he sits forward to nod eagerly, newly large hands already fumbling up to wrap around Bucky’s thighs and help along with Bucky’s hand slotting in his hair to guide him forward until Bucky is slipped inside his mouth and bumping against the back of his throat, Steve’s tongue flexing on the underside and getting him to groan. 

He hasn’t had Steve’s mouth since Brooklyn, but the wet heat of it is just as sweet, Steve’s hair in his hands just as soft. The slide in and out is as easy as ever to lose himself to, and as much as Bucky would love to finish like this, familiar and fast- he has plans that require a bit more stamina, so after about a minute or so he has to force himself to pull out, slapping his tip against Steve’s outstretched tongue a few times for good measure. 

“Sweeter than sin,” he sighs, both of their gazes settling on his cock, now shiny with spit. It’s still not enough for what they’re going to be doing, though, especially with Steve still sorting untouched below him. Bucky will have to remedy that. 

He sits and gestures for Steve to climb back on top of him, heated skin of his backside now meeting the bare tops of Bucky’s thighs.

He sighs, and then lets out another pleased noise when Bucky brushes a hand over his cock at the same time he slides one over his hole, both dry but still doing the job of getting him needy for it- not that he wasn’t already in the first place based off of how much his cock is dripping between them. Another perk of the serum, it seems. 

Bucky rubs his finger through the wetness of it and debates on bringing it up to their mouths for a taste of his own, but settles on going a different route and bringing it around back to rub over the other side of him as well, right where they both know he wants him. 

He’s not too shy about letting him know it, either, especially with how long Bucky’s been building them up to this. “Buck,” he breathes out, arms flexing where they’re braced around his shoulders. “Buck, c’mon- _please_.”

He’s ditched the _sir_ now that the more serious part of things are over, but Bucky doesn’t mind. How can he when Steve is working himself up so sweet on top of him? He can’t. 

He can still tease, though. Their day has been rough, he thinks they both deserve to smile, even if it’s almost over. It’ll be late when they get back. Hopefully the coffee is a bit less dirt-like than usual tomorrow. 

“Please what, sweetheart?” he hums out, kissing his way down Steve’s neck while stroking again over his hole. Steve’s hand settles in his hair, elbow pressing into the back of the couch. “Told you you can talk to me. You got something to say, use your words. I know you’ve got ‘em.” He presses a kiss right over his adam’s apple, sliding his free hand up and down his side to soothe him. “And I’ve got you, too.”

Steve gentles a little from where he’s ruffled up because Bucky’s teasing at that, sigh more fond than frustrated. “Always do,” he murmurs. 

“Always will.” Bucky pulls back to examine how his stubble has scraped Steve’s skin raw, delighting on how stark it brings out his blush. It’s pretty enough to push him towards (finally) grabbing the Vaseline from where it’s set next to Steve’s kneecap, bringing it around his back to pop it open with both hands before bringing it back to sit on top of his thigh. He doesn’t yet dip his fingers into it. An expectant look and light pat on the ass is all it takes for Steve to realize what he’s waiting on, groaning and dropping his head onto his shoulder. Bucky just laughs and twists to kiss the tip of his ear, voice mirthful when he responds. “We don’t have all night. Gotta be back at camp before sunrise or they’re gonna declare us both AWOL. Even Cap can’t escape flack from that.”

“Please?” Steve tries, a last ditch effort to get what he wants without having to say it so blatantly. Bucky doesn’t respond past gently smacking his fingers back over his hole again, a pale reflection of what he’d done earlier. Steve still makes a noise at it that’s still half stuck in his throat when he chokes out his answer. “Want you to fuck me- god, please. I’ll be good for you, I will.” 

Like this, head pitched forward and not meeting his eye, Steve seems to have lost most of the shame he usually holds saying stuff like this- because next thing Bucky knows, he’s whispering out “ _I need it”_ and Bucky just can’t hold back anymore. Not when Steve is sounding like that. 

“Promised I’d always give you what you need,” he murmurs out, moving his fingers up until the tips meet shiny-slick vaseline and Steve is looking at him with equally shining eyes when he feels Bucky’s arm moving to circle back around him. 

They haven’t had the chance to have sex or really do anything besides half fumbled handjobs in Steve’s tent since the night at the bar, so Steve is exhaling hard at the sting of bearing down on Bucky’s first finger as it breaches inside him, letting Bucky kiss him through it until the gasps he’s letting out are more tinged with pleasure than pain. 

“Jesus- new body of yours makes it feel like I’m popping your cherry every time, huh?” Bucky’s voice is strained, but he’d challenge any man no to be with Steve Rogers- at any size- moving around on his dick like he is, fucking back on the finger inside him and not stopping satisfied until Bucky has a second one in there to join it. 

“Don’t think much else about me is the same from back then,” Steve says distantly, digging his fingers into Bucky’s scalp as he groans through a nudge against his sweet spot. His cock leaks, trapped warm between their bellies. 

Bucky huffs half out of the effort of opening Steve up on his lap and half out of humor. “Sure it is. Same eyes. Same sweet little sounds. Same punk ass mouth.” His tone, even thick with the grunts he’s trying to hold back, betrays just how much he means that, and Steve’s fingers curling closer tells him he’s got the message. 

He makes a sound in the back of his throat, soft and sweet. “Says the guy who can’t ever keep from running his when we’re together.”

“Yeah, well,” Bucky twists his wrist at the same time he spreads his fingers open, adding in a third at the same time Steve starts moaning. “Pretty thing like you makes me think of a lot of things to say.” Then, quirking his lips at Steve’s blissed out expression, “Although _you_ don’t look like you have a single thing in your head right now. You counting on me to do all the work tonight?”

“Seems pretty fair,” Steve’s answer drifts back. 

Bucky laughs. He _did_ make Steve put in most of the moving the last time they got to do this- but he had been tired and it was right after they’d gotten the 107th free to begin with. Laying back and letting Steve take care of him, watching him do as Bucky said to make them both feel good- it had been what he needed at the moment. What Steve needed, too. But now...well, Bucky’s been tense all day. Pent up. Feeling pretty powerless- _especially_ in regards to taking care of his guy. 

What better way to work it out than this?

Thinking along that train, Bucky slides his fingers out of Steve and shushes his sad noise at the loss, smoothing a hand down his back that he finishes with an angle to the side to give Steve a hint about how he wants him (in position, anyways, because they both know the answer to that general question is in _every_ way). 

“Lay on your back,” he says, just to clarify. “Legs apart. You want one of the pillows?” There’s two matching the couch’s decor that Bucky had set on the floor with the duffel bag earlier, and Steve might not have back issues anymore, but Bucky still wants him to be comfortable. 

Steve smiles at the gesture, soft even amidst how ramped up they both are. “Yes, please. Shield already pulls on my shoulders _enough._ ”

“You should ask Howard about tweaking the harness then,” Bucky says, handing Steve a pillow once he’s off his lap and laying next to him as instructed, one leg hanging off the side of the couch and the other crooked up to rest on the back until he’s spread so wide he’s blushing. 

That doesn’t stop with his next words. “Buck, please don’t mention other men when you’re about to-“

“What?” Bucky interrupts, laughter in his voice once he leans down to press between Steve’s legs, his own knees braced on the garish couch cushions for leverage to kiss him. “Stick it in you? Fill you up? Should know I’m not thinking ‘bout any other man when I’ve got you right in front of me.”

Steve’s heel bends down to rest on Bucky’s back, eyes fixed on Bucky slicking up his cock between his thighs and his own erection still bobbing up between them, shiny at the tip. He’s flushed halfway down to it, hissing a little when Bucky brushes a knee up against the crease of where his thigh meets his ass, still sore enough from the spanking to sting at the contact and prickle of the hair on Bucky’s legs. 

“No one else,” he murmurs, like it’s a second thought. It probably is, based on how Bucky’s cock is busy nudging up against him, blunt head pressing at his rim and getting his breath to hitch before Bucky even begins to push inside. 

Because Bucky waits a final second to ask him one last question- “You ready, sunshine?”

Steve smiles, eyes half lidded. “C’mon and put your back into it, old man,” he sighs out. 

Bucky raises his eyebrows, expression wicked. “Oh, really?” Then, bending down, elbows braced down to blanket over him the best that he can (they’re lucky the couch is wide), he kisses him again, firm and filthy, before setting down to get rid of any sass in Steve’s tone- little _punk_. 

It’s replaced by a full body shudder once Bucky’s head pops inside, Steve’s mouth falling open when he starts sinking in, no more desire for any more smart remarks in sight. In fact, it’s all he can seem to manage to groan and get out “oh, _fuck_ ” before Bucky bottoms out and he can’t say anything at all. 

Bucky can, though. Steve’s right- he’s always running his mouth when he’s got him here, but they both know damn well he likes it. 

Case and point, the twitch his dick gives between them when Bucky gives his first shallow thrust and bites a mark into the nearest patch of skin, voice husky when he speaks after. “Yeah? You feel me filling you up?”

Steve can’t _not_ feel it when he’s gripping him so iron tight. He makes a desperate sound in the back of his throat. “Yeah- oh, god-“

Bucky, who has just started rocking in and out for real, smirks his way through a satisfied sigh and sucks another kiss against Steve’s jawline, Steve’s arms coming up to grip at his biceps. Listen, Bucky’s no super soldier, but he likes to think he’s still built pretty solid- and by Steve’s noise when he feels Bucky’s muscles flex under his fingers with his movements, he likes it too. 

Bucky captures him in a real kiss this time, Steve moaning into it when he hits his sweet spot at the same time he lets out a groan of his own. “ _Please,_ ” he gasps once they break free. “Buck-“

“Please what?” Bucky presses his tongue over Steve’s pulse point, feeling the pace at which his heart is pounding through it the exact way he used to check in Brooklyn when that was something to worry about- although to him, Steve’s heart is always going to be something to worry about. Bucky’s trusted to hold it in his hands after all. 

Steve whimpers, hips canting up like he’s trying to pull Bucky in deeper. By his next words, that’s _exactly_ what he wants. “Want it- want _you-_ Buck, please.”

“You got me, sweetheart,” Bucky promises lowly, hips shifting forward until the hot backs of Steve’s thighs are pressing against the front of Bucky’s own, damp peel of sweat doing its best to keep them together when Bucky pulls back only to push forward again, and again, and again, until he’s giving Steve everything he promised and more. 

They’re gonna be lucky if the building next door isn’t fully knocked down by the time this is over with how loud Steve is being, although Bucky’s not quite a church mouse himself either. He’s matching Steve’s groans with his own grunts, the both of their noises punctuated by the sound of skin hitting skin every time Bucky slams home- home being, as in most cases, inside Steve. 

The atmosphere inside the shop isn’t exactly of the highest quality with all the dust that’s yet to settle from yesterday, but every pant Bucky kisses off Steve’s mouth still feels like a breath of fresh air regardless, but still by the time he feels himself getting closer to the edge, he’s dizzy with it like he hasn’t had any oxygen since they started. Steve’s always had the ability to take away his breath like that. 

And like _this-_ wide open and wanton underneath him, Steve might as well be able to take away anything from Bucky that he wants, although what he currently wants (based off of his sounds at least) is for Bucky to fuck him deeper, harder- anything he can have. From Bucky, he can have everything. He _is_ everything. 

Bucky tells him as much, words meaningful and muttered right up against his mouth while his hips drive forward at a heightened pace. “You’re mine, Steven Grant,” he rasps out, arm cramming to fit between the back of the couch and Steve’s sweat-slick neck so he can fist his fingers in his hair and pull just enough to keep their eyes even with each other so Steve can see exactly how much he means this. “You are _mine_ and you’re alive and I swear on my own life I’m damn well gonna keep you that way.”

He knows he’d said after the spanking the past would be the past, forgiven in full- and Steve is forgiven, but Bucky can’t leave that sentiment in the past, not when it’s what half his life has been built on since the day they met. 

Steve’s eyes squeeze shut at the same time his legs move to as well, drawing Bucky in deeper until he’s flush against him, so close he’s not even moving anymore, just cradling his weight over Steve and feeling him clench down around him. His voice comes out choked up when he speaks, and Bucky can feel his own heart in his throat as well. “‘M’yours, Buck.”

Bucky kisses him, claiming and close. “You’re gonna fuckin’ stay that way,” he whispers out after, hips picking back up their pace and getting Steve panting again even while Bucky is still finishing his words. “Not allowed to go nowhere. Not without me.”

“Not without you,” Steve repeats, and Bucky knows the callback to what he’d screamed at Steve across that goddamn inferno at Azzano most likely isn’t intentional, but it pulls on his heartstrings anyways, almost as much as Steve’s next words. “Not ever gonna stop needing you Buck- _oh-_ “ his confession (as if Bucky shouldn’t already know) is cut off by a gasp as Bucky takes that as signal to really get down to it, fucking into him so hard it would be a frenzy if his focus wasn’t still crystal clear. His focus being Steve- always Steve. 

They don’t have any more words to trade after that, not when Bucky can feel the live-wire edge of orgasm approaching on his end and can see the way Steve is tensing up to his underneath them, cock smearing up against both their abs when Bucky leans back down to kiss him and guides a hand down to wrap around it possessively. Bracing himself up on one arm makes the rhythm he’s keeping slow down slightly, but the sound his hand stroking over Steve’s cock elicits makes it worth it. 

He knows all of Steve’s tells by now, but if Steve’s stuttered breathing and trembling of his tensed up stomach weren’t enough to clue him in, Steve’s unabashed whine and next words are plenty. 

“Buck,” he gets out, hushed and hoarse, “‘M’gonna come- gonna-“

“Yeah?” Bucky responds breathlessly, strokes going surer. “You close? Gonna come for me, pretty baby?”

Steve’s hands squeeze at his biceps, weaker than should be possible with the serum. “Want you to do it first- in me,” he gasps, knees bending so he’s spread that much wider. “Please.”

Like Bucky wasn’t going to do that anyways- but Christ, hearing Steve ask for it, worn down and wanton and so fucking sweet? He wants to be in this man’s _bones._ Rib of his rib, and all that. 

He braces down and shifts his focus from stroking Steve off to settling on what was asked of him. If Bucky coming first is what his sweetheart wants, that’s what his sweetheart is gonna get. 

Steve does some shifting of his own once Bucky lets go of his cock, taking the opportunity of Bucky moving his arm to slide his leg up in front of it until the crook of it is thrown haphazardly over Bucky’s bicep he was formerly holding, his own hand now slid down to stroke over his cock instead. 

The sight of him staring up at Bucky, eyes wide and mouth dropped open- two of the things Bucky had previously told him stayed the same- is what gete Bucky close enough to the edge to fall right over, groaning out low and guttural as his hops fuck in a final few times and stutter to a halt that has Steve’s eyes rolling up and back while Bucky spends himself inside his body, just like he asked for. 

“Fuck,” Bucky hisses, losing all finesse now that he’s simply going through the aftershocks. “Jesus fuck, Stevie-“ 

Steve sobs out a noise underneath him that has Bucky flashing back to their bedroom in Brooklyn, the first time they did this where Steve was spread out on the covers underneath him with about seven times too much vaseline smeared between their bodies and stars in his eyes while he looked up at Bucky like he held the secrets to the entire damn universe. The couch they’re on isn’t anywhere near their shitty spring box (is actually probably more comfortable) and they have to be a bit stingy on the vaseline now that supplies fall so short- but that look, that damn _look_ he’s giving Bucky- it’s the same as it’s always been, and all of the sudden Bucky feels like a goddamn fool for ever wondering if Steve Rogers didn’t need him. 

Steve needs him- needs him more, more than _anyone_ , and that’s something Bucky knows and vows never again to question. 

Now that he’s past his peak, Bucky stills his hips but stays inside to give Steve something to bear down on, knocking his hand to the side to finish stroking him off for himself. He’s always preferred for Steve to come by his hand- likes knowing that it’s never going to be from anyone else’s. 

“You gonna come for me, baby? Come from how I feel inside you?” He’s still a bit unsteady from how alight his nerves are after his own orgasm, but doesn’t bat an eye at Steve arching up underneath him. He said he’d give him what he needs. That’s what he’s doing now. “Come for me, sweetheart.”

It’s _all_ that Steve needs, it seems, at least to come, because a moment later he’s doing so between their stomachs with a moan that manages to carry out until Bucky’s rung the last of it out of him and lets himself collapse on top of Steve, the both of them spent and sated. 

They don’t speak or even shift for a good minute after it’s over, Bucky really doesn’t want to move at all- but it’s probably well past midnight now, and the two of them really do need to head back to camp. Plus, everyone might think Steve is the responsible one between them (like hell he is with how many fights Bucky has dragged his ass out of), but the two of them both know Bucky is always the one to break the afterglow. Most of the time, Steve barely has his brains together enough to even properly bitch about it. 

Bucky sighs and brushes a sweaty curl off of his own forehead before doing the same with the blonde strands off of Steve’s. He smiles down at him tiredly. “How’s the weather down there, pal?”

Steve groans, even though they both know it’s the check in question Bucky always uses. He’s used to it by now, just like he is with pretty much everything about Bucky in the bedroom. Or in this case, an abandoned antique shop. “Would say bright and shiny but it’s pretty late at night.”

Bucky grimaces at the stickiness of Steve’s come that becomes apparent when he leans back to pull the both of them apart, sitting on his haunches to pull carefully out of Steve while the blonde flops a forearm over his face and makes a sad noise at the loss and sudden emptiness. “Guess both of our showers were for nothing.”

“Gimme a warning next time and I’ll save the hot water for the rest of the guys,” Steve mutters, peeking out an eye to watch Bucky maneuver off the couch on slightly stiff legs to bend over and rummage through Steve’s discarded duffel for the spare cloth they’ve taken to hiding in there. For _emergencies,_ of course. 

Bucky laughs and uses it to clean himself off before handing it to Steve and turning away to give him privacy (Bucky might’ve changed his bed pans before, but that doesn’t make him watching Steve wipe his ass off any less awkward). He picks up and gloves and belt and plops them back in the bag in the meantime. “Told you I didn’t really plan this out. Just kind of went with what I was feeling.”

“Yeah,” Steve sighs, tossing the towel at him once he’s done. “ _I_ can feel how you were feeling pretty well.” He’s still gingerly lounging back against the couch, pillow now tucked under his ass when Bucky turns back around to join him. 

“You deserved it, punk,” he murmurs good naturedly, scuffing over his neck once before plopping down next to him and letting him lean closer to his side, arm slung around him. “You okay, though? Gloves weren’t too much?”

Steve’s blush tells him just how much he liked the gloves even without him having to say it, but he still does. “They were a nice touch.” Then, shifting to get closer into Bucky’s hold and grimacing again once his ass rubs aginst the pillow, “Although I guess the touch I _got_ with them wasn’t very nice.”

“You seemed to like it well enough,” Bucky teases, pressing a kiss to his hair. Steve grumbles and hides his face in his neck, but doesn’t deny it, too busy rubbing himself up against Bucky’s stubble. Bucky snorts and lets him do it for a little while before eventually tugging on his hair and getting him to lift his hair. “You good to head back to camp after we get dressed or do you need a minute?” 

He still looks a little loopy, eyes hazy and head practically limp against Bucky’s shoulder. Bucky spanked the hell out of him and then took him apart, after all- it’s not surprising when he snuggles closer up to Bucky’s side and shakes his head. “Just... just for a little longer. Then I’ll be good.”

Bucky leans them both against the opposite arm of the couch, Steve’s hand resting right on his chest and fiddling with the hair there once they settle down. “You’re always good.”

“Even when I’m a reckless idiot?” Steves jokes quietly. There’s a hint of hesitance in his voice Bucky is quick to handle. 

“Even when you’re a reckless idiot, yeah. Wouldn’t have you any other way, even if you need a reminder on just how reckless you can get away with being every now and then.” He kisses him when he lifts his head up and silently asks for once, more than happy to oblige. “But don’t think I won’t get those gloves out again if the need comes back around.”

“Feel free to keep them,” Steve yawns, snuffling his way back into his spot on Bucky’s neck again. “Not like I need ‘em anymore.” The kiss he presses against Bucky’s skin is gentle. “Just need you. Love you, Buck. Sorry for stressing you out.”

Bucky hates hearing those two sentiments so close- _I love you_ and _sorry_ \- but he ignores that in favor of saying the first one back. “I love you back. And don’t sweat it, you’re forgiven, remember? ‘Sides, you’ve been stressing me out since the day we met. I’m used to it by now- just not quite used to how serious it can be over here, you know?” 

Steve sighs and lays his hand flat on Bucky’s belly, fingers playing with the dusting of body hair he finds there as well. He’s taken to paying more attention to it now that Bucky is filling back out, happy to see the recovery. “I know.”

Still, Bucky hates to see him dejected, especially after he was feeling so good. He skritches his own hand across Steve’s stomach just to get him to smile again at how good it feels and the little bit it tickles. “My little punk,” he says. “Told you I’d follow you. I meant it. But I’ll jerk you back when you need it, too.”

Steve makes a satisfied sound and slides his hand across Bucky’s waist to hold him tight. “Little guy from Brooklyn always had you to do that. Captain America probably needs it too,” he murmurs shyly. 

“Captain America or not, I’ll always be doing that for you. I’m your guy, remember?” His voice softens. “Always gonna be your guy.” Steve hugs him tighter. Bucky lets him cling- joins in on it, as a matter of fact. They don’t get the chance to do this often anymore. 

Still, Steve’s voice is familiar as he speaks, even where his touch sits different (it still fits on Bucky’s body perfect anyways). “I love you,” he repeats.

Bucky says it back, always happy to say it again. He won’t ever _not_ say it again. It’s answer he’ll never get tired of being able to give. “I love you back, punk.” 

Steve’s mutter of _jerk_ is said so sleepily Bucky barely hears it, but he knows it’s there anyways, the response so natural they don’t even need to say it. They feel it regardless, rhythm so second nature it’s ingrained right down to their bones. 

Bucky kisses Steve’s hair again and settles back on the couch, feeling nostalgia for all the times they did this after necking in the living room turned into more back in Brooklyn. Back home. The couch they’re on right now isn’t home, but Steve still is, and what they just shared together still is too. 

Yeah, some things might be different, but this? Steve being too caught up in his own head, as stubborn as brave and ever, Bucky taking care and taking control when he can- the things that are familiar are far and few in between, but this- here and now with the two of them, laying down, tucked up tight together- 

The fit’s still the same. 

**Author's Note:**

> i can practically cite my sources on the timeline because ive thought about it ... way too much. it’s a little embarrassing. the fact steve was only 24 getting the serum (june 22nd 1943 aka also dr erskine’s death date) and bucky was 26 ... and steve had to spend his 25th birthday alone on the road in an unfamiliar body ... ouch. hit me like a ton of bricks. enjoy sharing the pain!
> 
> as usual, i hope you enjoyed this. 20k words written by ME? in TWO DAYS? baffling. but also i am a little proud and welcome my ego to be stoked by comments and kudos if you please. happy january installment to the sub steve book club, i’ll see you next month.


End file.
